


A Team of Two

by JWMelmoth



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWMelmoth/pseuds/JWMelmoth
Summary: A prompt from Tumblr :  “I asked people to help me move and you were the only one who showed up”.





	A Team of Two

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my WIP box for over 2 years. Originally posted on Tumblr February 2017.

It was a sign of how stressed he was that Kurt actually sent out the email.

He had always taken care of things himself- usually because he had to. After his mother died, he had been the one to take up cooking and cleaning. When they moved to a new place closer to Burt's shop (and with less painful memories of Kurt's mom), Kurt had been the one to sort through, box and label their belongings. It was Kurt who scoured the flea markets for furniture to fill their loft in New York, helped Mercedes move into her new place and Blaine out of David's flat. His friends usually call on him to help out, not the other way around.

But the divorce had taken all of his remaining strength. Three months. That was how long they had lasted after their spontaneous wedding. Longer than Brittney Spears, but still not exactly the epitome of happily ever after. He had known it was a crazy idea to begin with. Once again, he had let himself be swept up in the moment, pushed by the people who claimed to love him. What followed was a whirlwind of disaster. A brief honeymoon during which Blaine spent more time talking to strangers about the importance of marriage equality than with his new husband, a few weeks of trying to get Blaine interested in helping with the renovations on their new apartment before giving up and doing it by himself, followed by weeks of complaints about the place from the guy who refused to give his input when he could- and then Kurt decided he'd had enough, for good.

With everything over and done with, Kurt felt sapped, and the thought of repacking all the boxes he had only just unpacked was so daunting he had thrown in the towel and asked for help from his friends.

It didn't take long for the first replies to come in. Rachel couldn't make it. Mercedes was on tour with Santana, Elliott was still on his yoga retreat and Dani was working night shifts and needed her sleep during the day. Even his dad was busy. Somehow, Kurt wasn't really surprised by his friends' rejections. What did surprise him, however, was the amount of mails coming in.

When an out-of-office reply from Chase arrived, Kurt checked his sent folder and realized he accidentally sent his mail to his entire address book.

Great, he thought. Desperate much, Hummel? He briefly considered sending another message, but then figured it'd only attract more attention if he did. Maybe if he left it at the single mail, his professors at NYADA would just ignore it like they did most students' private affairs. If asked, he could always tell them his laptop had a virus.

Kurt shut down his computer and curled up on the covers next to it, too exhausted for his evening rituals. Well done, Blaine. You finally managed to stop me from flossing, he thought bitterly before drifting into sleep.

Kurt was woken up by a knock on the door. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, grimacing as he smacked his lips and ran his tongue over his unbrushed teeth. There was no way he was answering the door in this state.

There was another knock; rhythmic, and somehow managing to sound cheerful and insistent at the same time. Kurt groaned and pushed himself off his mattress. He had to get up and start packing anyway; whoever it was had themselves to blame for having to witness his unwashed appearance.

He opened the door, still rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair.

"Good morning! Crawford moving company at your service!" a voice said cheerfully.

"Adam?" Kurt dropped his hand from his face and stood blinking at him for a moment. His ex-boyfriend looked as he always had; casually dressed, a thin knitted scarf and a beanie his only protection against the weather ("I'm from England, Kurt. I'm waterproof. We could have replaced our patio with a pool and no one would have noticed"), and eyes that lit up on cue whenever Kurt said his name.

Adam smiled and glanced inside. "Am I really the first?"

Kurt nodded and yawned at the same time.

A guilty expression appeared on Adam's face. "Am I too early? I didn't wake you, did I?"

Kurt swallowed thickly. Of course. Of course he'd come; regardless of the way they parted and the sparse, awkward messages after that; despite Kurt defriending him and the Apples on facebook at Blaine's request. This was Adam. His email address was still in Kurt's address book, and when he received Kurt's plea for help, he came.

"You did, but it doesn't matter. I overslept. I'm glad you're here. Please come in."

Adam briefly eyed him up and down. "Are you sure? I could nip out for a cup of coffee if you want to take a shower?"

"No, stay," Kurt said resolutely, then realized Adam's offer might have been a subtle excuse to leave an uncomfortable situation. "I mean, you can stay if you want... I can make you some coffee here."

"Thanks," Adam said simply, and Kurt suddenly remembered that Adam had always been very honest in his choice of words. Months of dealing with Blaine's passive aggressive, read-between-the-lines attitude had made Kurt wary of the simplest exchanges. He opened the door wider and let him in, doing his best not to exhale his morning breath in Adam's direction.

As Adam stepped inside, Kurt noticed a pair of rough leather gloves hanging from his back pocket.

Adam turned and saw him looking. He pulled them out. "Not very elegant, but good for carrying boxes," he explained.

"You're well-prepared, I see," Kurt remarked, and Adam dipped his head.

"Just careful with my breadwinners," he said bashfully. "I, um- I am a licensed masseur now."

"You are?" Kurt asked in surprise. He couldn't help but glance at Adam's strong hands. "But..."

"It's only temporary," Adam said quickly. "You know, until I find something...else."

"Hey, I'm a singing waiter, ok? Don't put yourself down. Your massages were amazing. I still dream of them some nights."

As Adam's eyes found his, Kurt quickly rectified his words. "When...my back hurts. It's not- I didn't mean-" he stuttered.

"Of course," Adam reassured him, but Kurt had seen the sparkle in his eyes dim just for a moment, and he felt guilty.

"Do you still take milk and sugar?" Kurt said as a means of distraction.

"Please, if it's no trouble. You don't need to unpack anything."

Kurt looked over his shoulder at the kitchen and sighed warily. "I haven't really packed much yet. I was going to, but-" He shrugged. "Drowning my sorrows with a threesome seemed preferable."

"Pardon?"

Kurt smiled a little. "Me. Ben. Jerry." Adam still looked a little confused and eyed the privacy curtain. "You know. Chocolate Macadamia," Kurt added.

Adam laughed and shook his head. "Okay, you got me."

Kurt grinned, pleased that Adam, at least, had thought Kurt was attractive enough to be in a threesome. Blaine had often given him the feeling he should count his blessings having him, because there was no one else who'd want him as he was. Deep inside, Kurt had known that wasn't true, but it didn't hurt to have it confirmed. He made coffee, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Silence had always been comfortable between them, but after a while Kurt felt the unspoken question in the air.

"It was me who broke it off," he said, and the look on Adam's face confirmed he had been wondering. "It got to a point where I wasn't sure if I could make it through a week with him, let alone the rest of my life. We fought a lot, about the littlest things. But I guess the worst part was knowing everyone was always on his side. In a way, even my dad was."

"I'm sorry. That must have been a terribly desolate feeling," Adam offered.

Kurt didn't fail to notice Adam hadn't said he felt sorry about their break-up; just for the way Kurt felt. "It was," he agreed quietly.

"I never did meet Blaine," Adam said neutrally. "But I doubt anything he could say or do would sway me away from your side."

Kurt chuckled without mirth and shook his head. "Yeah, that's what they all say until he switches on the Anderson magic and blainewashes them."

Adam coughed and choked on his coffee a little. "Blainewashes?" he spluttered hoarsely.

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know what else to call it. One moment, they're my friends and then suddenly, they're his. Like he hasn't taken enough from me already."

Adam got that look in his eyes again, the one that Kurt had seen when they watched Moulin Rouge, and again when Adam asked if he had been Kurt's rebound.

There was a world of hurt behind Adam's eyes, only kept in check by his absolute Britishness, which, if asked about it, would always make him shrug it off or make some self-depreciatory remark. It wasn't pity Kurt was seeing, but more like a sadness- like Kurt's words hurt him in a profound personal way. Kurt quickly gathered up their mugs.

"I'll need to brush my teeth and put on some jeans but then we can get started," he mumbled.

"Right," Adam agreed, getting up and extending his hand. "You can give me those, I'll wash up."

"Oh, you don't have to-" Kurt started.

"I came to help," Adam said, and Kurt let him take the mugs from his hands without resistance. It felt like giving away a backpack of bricks.

There was a lot Kurt wanted to tell him. About coming home from a job carrying around and washing plates all night, only to find more dishes waiting in the sink. About endless fights over whose turn it was. About giving in, over and over, until it became routine to do it by himself.

But sharing that story would mean another of those looks, and Kurt couldn't. He also had a feeling Adam already knew, somehow. Instead, he just nodded and went to the bathroom.

When Kurt came back, Adam had cleaned and dried their mugs and was sitting on the couch. A flash of embarrassment shot into Kurt's cheeks as he realized he had left his boyfriend pillow there, next to an empty pint of ice cream.

Adam followed his eyes to the pillow and smiled. "We've just been catching up," he said, putting a hand on the pillow's shoulder. "Bruce said it's nice having you all to himself again."

Despite his embarrassment, Kurt smiled. "And what else did Bruce say?" he asked.

"That you still sound adorable when you snore."

"I don't sn- Bruce, how dare you!" Kurt let out indignantly. Then he let himself drop onto the couch next to Adam. He took Bruce and put him in his lap, fluffing the filling a little. "I couldn't part with him," Kurt said, looking down on the arm-shaped pillow. "Not even after I got married. In retrospect, I guess my subconscious was trying to tell me something."

"Maybe you shouldn't be too hard on yourself," Adam said gently. "Not everything is a cosmic sign. Sometimes things just don't work out, for no reason."

"Oh, there were plenty of reasons," Kurt replied, then sighed. "I just ignored them until it was already too late."

Adam fussed with Bruce's cuff. "It's never too late to start over," he offered, then rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I sound like a fortune cookie. Maybe we should just start packing. Where do you want me?"

"Bedroom."

"All right," Adam replied without skipping a beat.

Kurt, whose mind had skipped back to Adam's new profession as he watched Adam's hands, had replied on auto-pilot and flushed as he realized what he'd just said.

"Because of the clothes. Packing them would probably take the longest," Kurt explained.

"Of course," Adam replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Kurt got up quickly, brushing down his jeans. Now was not the time for Freudian slips. They had work to do.

*

"Okay, don't judge me when you see what's in here," Kurt started as he opened the door to the large walk-in closet, (eventhough he knew there was hardly a judgemental bone in Adam's body), "a lot of this stuff I haven't worn in ages. Highschool was all about statements."

Adam raised his eyebrows and grinned in anticipation. "It can hardly be worse than the sweaters my mom knits for me for christmas," he offered.

"No, I've seen those, and trust me: it can get worse," Kurt replied. "That's why I decided to be rigorous and clean out thoroughly. I'm only taking things I plan on wearing again. I have pictures of me in almost everything I ever wore anyway, so I'm not hanging on to anything just for sentimentality's sake anymore. We'll make three piles: pack, ebay, donation." He pointed at three areas in the bedroom to place the respective piles. There was a large suitcase, several boxes and a roll of plastic bags waiting. "I'll sort, you pack?"

Adam nodded resolutely, and they set to work. For a while, Kurt kept up a stream of commentaries about each article, mostly to explain the why and how of some of his more risquÃ© pieces. But as Adam never once laughed derisively or rolled his eyes, (not even at his aunt's half-sweater or the silver Marc Jacobs jumpsuit that Blaine always said made him look like a â€˜fat astronaut'), Kurt slowly let his guard down and relaxed enough to ask Adam a bit about what he'd been doing the past months.

Adam was happy to oblige, and told Kurt all about his job hunting, scrambling for bit parts at the theatre, his family abroad and the Apples' new projects and his status as unofficial alumni coach.

"I don't see why NYADA can't pay you for your time, at least," Kurt remarked, handing Adam several coathangers with clothes. "These go on ebay." He turned back to the closet to grab another hand full.

Adam took them, laid them out on the bed and started taking the hangers out. He shrugged. "I don't mind. It was that or see them disbanded." His hands lingered on one of the coats. "Are you sure about this one?"

Kurt frowned and looked over his shoulder. Adam was touching the white teddy collar of his jacket, seemingly lost in thought.

"Why? Do you think it won't bring much? It's still in good condition."

"It is. It's just..." Adam looked up at Kurt. "It looks good on you." He smiled. "You used to wear it to NYADA on the days you had musical theory because you said-"

"-the auditorium gets so cold. I know," Kurt finished. He bit his lip. Suddenly Kurt was tempted to ask Adam what else he remembered.

As if he had read Kurt's mind, Adam picked up a shirt from Kurt's â€˜pack' pile; a striped H&M henley with a zipper neckline. He draped it over the coat and folded one side of the collar back. "You wore this when you first asked me out," he said, a little bashfully. "I may have bored my roommates to death with every little detail about you after that conversation. I even googled some brands to make sure I wouldn't mess up while talking to you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You never told me about that," he said.

"Well," Adam shrugged, "maybe I hoped you thought I was naturally in your league."

Not sure how to respond to that, Kurt took up the jacket and looked it over. "I don't know," he said critically. "I have too many jackets as it is."

"Oh, you don't have to keep it for my sake," Adam said quickly. "I just thought I'd ask in case it was in there by mistake."

Kurt felt strangely guilty. He hadn't even thought about keeping it, though he did remember wearing it that day - he remembered almost every combination of clothes he'd ever worn to pivotal moments in his life. But he had told himself not to be sentimental about this. He hadn't worn it in a long time, and there were a lot more flattering jackets on his pack pile.

He hesitated, then made up his mind. "Ebay. I've been reading this book about uncluttering your life-"

"Hence your divorce," Adam quipped casually.

A clipped laugh broke from Kurt's lips before he reigned himself in. At the following pause, Adam naturally started apologizing.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, that was just- I didn't mean...that was-" Adam stumbled, colour rising in his cheeks.

Kurt shook his head. "No. No, it's okay." He smirked. "Don't hold back."

Adam smiled. "All right."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"So, this book," Kurt started again.

"Yes, go on," Adam encouraged him, his cheeks still cooling as he folded a sweater from the pack pile.

"It made me realise I have been holding on to things that used to matter to me just because I felt they made up who I was. But I'm not my clothes. And I can't live in a museum."

He resolutely put his self-made kilt on the ebay pile. It wouldn't fetch much, but he doubted the homeless had much use for semi-formal wear in winter.

"Besides, my dad has basically annexed my old room to store his fishing gear, so I can't show up with ten suitcases full of stuff. And it's not like my new place, if I even find a decent one that I can afford, will have much room either."

"You're moving back to your dad's?" Adam asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Just for a bit. The resonance with my friends for putting me up was about as big as the crowds here today." Not wanting to sound too ingrateful, Kurt quickly added: "It's okay. Most of them live in broom-closets anyway."

For a moment, Kurt thought Adam was going to say something, but nothing came. Had he been about to offer him a place to stay, but changed his mind? Kurt would never be able to accept such an offer, not after how he had treated Adam. Him showing up to help was already almost more than his conscience could bear.

"I can ask around," Adam said instead. "Via our â€˜Apple network'." He grinned as he made quotation marks in the air.

"That'd be great, thank you," Kurt replied. He walked back to his closet, and for a while, they continued their work without talking. But their talk, Adam's kindness- Adam's mere presence was sending Kurt's mind in overdrive, and after a while he couldn't stand not addressing it any longer.

"Adam, why did you come here today?" he asked.

Adam looked a bit taken aback. "To...help?" He cocked his head. "Are you asking me if I have some sort of hidden agenda?"

Kurt nodded.

Adam frowned. "I don't. I care about you, and I imagined you could use some help. I'm no doctor Phil, but I did figure out that breaking off a marriage after half a year isn't the best sign. I didn't come here to take advantage of that situation."

Kurt wasn't sure what he had expected, asking that question, and yet he was disappointed somehow. The looks, the banter, the smiles - Bruce. Being around Adam brought back so many happy memories of their time together that it made Kurt wish Adam wasn't such a damn gentleman.

Adam seemed just as lost in his own thoughts. "My little sister," he finally said, "you know, the precoscious one-" He smiled a little. "She told me I should have made more of a ruckus, back then. When you left for Ohio and came back engaged. I think she felt I should have challenged Blaine to a duel, or something." Adam shook his head. "I thought I was doing the mature thing. I always knew he was still in the back of your mind while we were together so I just accepted defeat. Since then, I couldn't help but wonder sometimes... would it have made a difference?"

Kurt swallowed. He considered his words carefully. What was the point in causing Adam more pain than he already had? If he was a good friend, he ought to swipe Adam's doubts cleanly off the table.

In the end, he settled for the truth. "Maybe. I don't know." A single tear slipped down his face. Maybe knowing there was someone on his side, one person who thought he was worth fighting for... If he hadn't felt like Blaine was his last and only chance of ever being loved- however flawed- It might have tipped the scales.

"Fuck," Adam cursed, and screwed his eyes tightly closed for a moment before focusing them on Kurt's with an intense look. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I should have done so either way. Even if we wouldn't have worked out, I would have liked to spare you this-" He swept his arm around the place. "I should have stirred up hell. I'm really sorry."

Kurt pressed his lips tightly together in a thin smile, not trusting his voice enough to speak. He shrugged, his arms coming up to hug himself.

Tentatively, Adam came closer. When Kurt didn't step away, Adam closed the distance between them and put his arms around Kurt's shoulders. Slowly, Kurt allowed himself to relax into the embrace.

"Not as sorry as I am," he whispered. He unwrapped his arms from himself and curled them around Adam's waist, squeezing him tightly for a moment before stepping back.

He took a deep breath. "But it's never too late to start over, right, Mr Fortune Cookie?"

"Right," Adam replied, smiling. "Back to work?"

"Back to work," Kurt confirmed. "I think we can fill those boxes up a bit more, now that I know I have a licenced masseur to take care of my back tonight." He avoided Adam's eyes, but with no protest forthcoming, a tiny spark of hope lit inside Kurt.


End file.
